


Spin, Spin, Spin - A Rumbelle fairytale

by Brokensoul



Category: Once Upon A Time - Fandom
Genre: Castles, Changelings, Deals, F/M, Finding a Family, Gaston is not a total ass, Love conquers all worlds, Rumbelle in love, Rumple is amazing, Title has nothing to do with the episode, True Love, Vague Victorian setting, ballgowns, belle is amazing, fae, happy ever after, rumbelle fairy tale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-07-01 05:05:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15767187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brokensoul/pseuds/Brokensoul
Summary: Gaston’s wife is dying, but he’s desperate for an heir so he makes a deal. Will the infamous Rumplestiltskin save her life? Yes, dearies, he will. For a price.“Was you who summoned me, not the other way around. I don’t have all night!” The thing held a clawed finger in the air, and then pointed it, threateningly, at her husband. “I have places to be, people to see, and magic like mine. Is. Not. Free.” It punctuated its words by stabbing its claw into her husband’s chest with each syllable. Belle saw that its attire was as bizarre as its awful mottled skin. It seemed to be wearing a reptile hide, coming down to stiff and threatening points over its spidery fingers. It held its arms in an unnatural way. Everything about the beast was off putting.“But half her life? Surely that is too high a price to be paid! She is but an innocent!”The imp laughed, a horrible sound that seemed to corkscrew its way through Belle’s ear and worm it’s way into her brain.“Nothing in this world is innocent, dearie! Half a life is better than none, which is what she’ll have if you dither.Deal or not? Tick tock, dearie!”





	1. The Price To Be Paid

Belle was dreaming, but it was by far the strangest dream she’d ever had. She felt like she was suffocating, the bed curtains sucking up the oxygen. Her high temperature caused her to toss and turn, sweat soaking the sheets of the canopied bed. She tried to move to a dry area of the large bed, but her voluminous white nightdress hindered her, tangling in her frail limbs. The collar, buttoned high up the throat, seemed intent on choking her. The bedclothes felt like wet moss, heavy and clinging. She opened her mouth to call out for help, but, in the way of dreams, her voice would not obey. She tried to claw the material away from her parched throat, tried to sit up, but was too weak. For the past few days she had been unable to keep down any food or to sleep properly, and was as a result exhausted. She gave up, trembling violently, damp from both tears and perspiration. Overcome, she wept silently, tears moving from her flushed cheeks to slide uncomfortably across the sides of her throat and adding to her misery. 

In her dream she could see the large fire at the far end of the chamber, and she could even hear the crackle and pop of the flames as a burning log split in two and tumbled down, spitting jack o lantern sparks. The fire was the only source of light in the chamber, as all the gaslights had been extinguished. It seemed as if she watched the scene from the end of a long narrow tunnel. She could clearly see her husband though, standing in front of the fireplace, the flames causing a dance of light and shadow across the fine planes of his handsome face. He had removed his jacket and vest, loosened his tie,and stood in only his loose shirt and breeches. He was a fine looking man, strong and solid. His head was down , face concerned. That wasn’t unusual, considering his pretty and new young wife had been ill for a fortnight. No, that wasn’t what made Belle certain that this was a nightmare of considerable proportions. It was the other figure that stood with her husband. 

A ..man.. if he could be called such, truly hideous to behold. Why would her fevered mind conjure such a beast to torment her in her infirmity? Had she not suffered enough? Perhaps it was her punishment for failing in her wifely domain. Or perhaps, horror, it was there to harm her new husband. Once again, she tried to call out, to warn her husband, once again, her voice failed her. Belle grit her teeth in despair and frustration. 

The hunched creature spoke. 

“Don’t ask me, dearie! It was you who summoned me, not the other way around. I don’t have all night! “ The dark thing held a black clawed finger in the air and then pointed it at her husband, menacing. 

“I have places to be, people to see, and magic like mine. Is. Not. Free.” With each of its last three words it’s voice dropped from the previously high pitched singsong and it punctuated its clipped words by stabbing its claw into her husband’s broad chest with each syllable. Belle saw that its attire was as bizarre as its awful mottled skin. It seemed to be wearing a repellent reptile hide, coming down to stiff and threatening points over its spidery fingers. It held its arms in an unnatural way. Everything about the beast was off putting.

“But half her life? Surely that is a price too high! She is but an innocent!” 

The imp laughed, a horrible, infantile sound that seemed to corkscrew through Belle’s ear and worm its way into her brain, nesting there and threatening insanity. 

“Nothing in this world is innocent dearie! Half a life is better than none, which is what she’ll have if you dither. Now do we deal or not? Tick tock, dearie!” It snapped its long fingers impatiently in her husband’s face. 

Gaston began to pace. “I need her to live; I need an heir! But I am a Lord. I can get you riches, gold, secure for you a title! Only tell me what it will take!” He looked at the creature desperately. 

The fae bared its grotesque ,sharp and blackened teeth and snapped, “I have already explained to you quite succinctly the terms of the contract. Nothing else will pay the price, and nothing less will secure her life. You know I cannot lie.” It moved its head, snakelike, and widened its reptilian eyes in a mockery of trustworthiness. Revolting. 

“I am not a fool! I know the fae cannot lie, but I know as well that you may twist words to achieve your own ends. Give me your word that she will live long enough for me to secure an heir!” Gaston looked wild, pulling at his normally perfect hair as if he would tear it from his own head.

“Indeed she will. I dare say she will live long enough for you to have several. She is very young after all, and will you even want her after that? When she is no longer lovely, plump and ripe?” The thing licked its black lips in a disgusting parody of lust and Belle felt sickened.

“But,” Gaston yet hesitated. “ No one can ever know of this. My family would disown me should a whisper of the taint of black magic ever touch me.”

“Oh my,my, taint,” the creature mockingly tapped its chin with a stained finger, looking vaguely offended. “That is quite the conundrum!” It slinked over to Gaston, all serpentine grace. “Perhaps, dearie, you would wish that she cannot,” it leaned in intimately, “whisper.”

Gaston backed away hastily. “You can do this?”

“Oh, most assuredly,” it smirked. “But of course , it comes with a price. Should she ever discover what you have done, she will not be able to speak sense of it. But the tongue that cannot betray your secret will never again enjoy the taste of food in this world. That is the price of her silence. A small one, yes? For so dark a secret?” 

Gaston paced again, and the creature hissed and tapped a pointed booted foot impatiently, narrowing its insane eyes. Finally it turned on its heel, making a dismissive gesture. “Well, if that’s-“

“Yes!” Her husband shouted, finally succeeding in tearing out a chunk of his hair. “Yes, damn you to Hell!”

The thing giggled again in its nasty infantile way, and Belle wanted desperately to cover her ears. “Too late for that dearie! And now... “ once again its voice lowered , sounding simultaneously more human and more terrifying, “ the deal is struck.” 

With an elaborate flourish it produced a quill and parchment. Snapping the roll open with a flick of its wrist, it hissed in triumph, “Sign on the dotted line.”

Belle watched from her nightmare as her husband signed a contract for a mysterious deal with what looked to be a demon. The shadows in the room appeared to surge forward as it finished, caressing the grinning creature, and it hastily snatched the parchment and rolled it up, tucking it out of sight.

“Hope you’re happy with your deal, dearie.” It showed a sharp and knowing smile, smug. “So few are.”

A billow of oily black smoke and the monstrosity was gone. The fire winked out and the room was pitch black.

Belle slipped into blessed oblivion, and knew no more.

*******************

Slowly Belle returned to the world of the wakeful, the sunlight from the eastern window creeping golden and soft, a prowling feline, across her prone body. Experimentally, she stretched her limbs, first legs, then arms, like a sleepy cat, in tune with sun’s slow stalk. She felt... good. Really good, for the first time in weeks. The bed linens had been changed, as well as her nightdress, and she was cozy and comfortable in her fluffy cocoon. Gaston! She realized. He took such good care of her.

She smiled to herself, thrilled. Her long ordeal was over! She was healthy again at last. At times over the last month, in her pain, she had almost lost hope. It seemed to her in her fevered misery that her new husband could not bear to look at her. She had wondered if her weakness repelled him, and she had felt shame. Out loud she had wished to escape her misery, to be elsewhere than the stifling and lonely sickroom. 

Now, when she felt so much stronger, and carefree in her abrupt relief, her earlier fears seemed baseless and silly. Only the products of a brain on fire.

Belle was able to sit up. She gathered the pillows behind her, making herself comfortable. After helping herself to a cup of water from the pitcher on the nightstand, she gulped it down. The cool water was soothing and immediately relieved the desert dryness of her throat. She noted the fresh flowers on the table and smiled. Setting the cup back down, she sighed with pleasure as she reached for the book she had not been able to pursue since her nightmare illness had begun. Settling in for a long and pleasurable read, she grinned to herself and opened the book. Delving back into the world of words she had missed so much, she soon, as always,lost awareness of her surroundings and became immersed in a gorgeous world of fiction.

Sometime later she was pulled back to reality by a loud gasp. She looked up to see her maid, Sarah, standing in her doorway.

“Oh, mam, you’re awake! Goodness me! Oh, praise the Lord! It’s a miracle and no mistake!” The rotund and normally jolly Sarah rushed to Belle’s bedside. “How are you? How do you feel? Lord, I can’t believe it, oh my goodness!” Sarah held a hand to her matronly bosom, her eyes wide and shocked.

“Sarah!” Belle was delighted to see her old friend. “Yes, I’m fine! Pray do not trouble yourself so! It was merely a fever, and as you observe for yourself I am quite recovered.” Belle didn’t understand the woman’s shock. Though they had known each other since childhood and shared a deep bond, the woman’s reaction to a simple fever seemed extreme.

“Only mam, the doctor, he said... Well, never mind what the old huckster said. What do he know! Nothing, that’s owt! Here you are, all aglow with health! Looking beautiful but far too thin, if you’ll excuse me.” Sarah fussed with the bedclothes, smoothing them around Belle, then done with her busy fussing, she clasped her mistress’ hand tightly, tears of joy in her eyes.

“Now, never mind me hysterics! A dozy old cow! I’ll go and fetch you a warm breakfast and we’ll get some meat back on your bones, have you right as rain in no time, that we will! And the master! I must tell him, oh, he’s been in a right state! So worried for you mam! He loves you that much!” Kissing Belle’s hand with genuine affection, the whirlwind of maid bustled from the room on her errand, leaving her mistress smiling bemusedly.

With another content sigh, Belle went back to her book. A ridiculous story about a leprechaun looking for his lost gold, that she had begun right before she fell ill. The tale must have worked its way into her subconscious, she thought, for she half recalled a strange dream from the long night before. She’d had many disturbing dreams, she felt, but remembered only one. In it, a hunched and misshapen creature loomed above her bed, moving its clawed hands in the air above her body, muttering in an unknown language. The sheets as well as her damp gown seemed magically set to rights, pristine, and she grew comfortable and unafraid, as sometimes happened in dreams. Finished with its chanting, the odd , but somehow not ugly ,dream creature had then inexplicably leaned down and softly brushed its lips, just barely felt, like a breath, against her temple. 

“Be well”, it whispered.

Belle shook her head, smiling at the strange foolishness of dreams. A clinking sound of dishes pulled her attention towards the doorway. Expecting to see Sarah, she was delighted instead to see her husband himself entering with a tray from which a savory steam issued.

“Gaston!” Belle dropped her book and held out her arms, smiling.

Setting the tray heavily on the side table ,her husband awkwardly embraced her, tentatively, as if he feared she were still too fragile to touch. Pulling back, he gazed at her with what seemed wariness, but what she knew was only concern. “You are well, then?”

Belle laughed, “Yes, well at last, and ready to get back to life. Oh Gaston, I have missed you!”

“I have been in the house everyday, Belle, when other matters have not needed tending to, I have been home. Are you sure you are feeling alright? I have been so worried.” His eyes darted to the tray, his hands, as if he worried still.

“Yes, husband, I feel absolutely wonderful. I even have my appetite back, and whatever you have brought smells heavenly! I cannot wait to taste food again!” Belle laughed again, happiness overwhelming her.

Her husband gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. “I’m glad Belle. Let me arrange a plate for you.” He turned to busy himself with the breakfast tray, not quite meeting her eyes. Belle was afraid she’d made him feel guilty with her complaints of loneliness. Oh, and after he’d taken such care or her! Now she felt miserable. She was determined to put on a brave face and make no more disparaging remarks. After all he’d had other business in his life besides a sick wife; how ungrateful she must sound!

Gaston handed her a plate, loaded with more food than she could eat. With a fluttering of her heart, she realized with sweetness that he’d brought all her favorites. 

“Eat Belle, you must get your strength back.” His shoulders were hunched and he still would not meet her eyes, she saw, as her heart again sank. Oh, she felt like a clingy and ungrateful sow.

Taking a bite of the food she said, “Thank you, husband.” The food, a spiced sausage, her absolute favorite, tasted... tasted... like nothing. Absolutely nothing. She struggled to swallow the lump of tasteless paste in her mouth, working it down her throat with some difficulty. She saw that her husband was now watching her face intently.

“How is the food?” Gaston asked, in a way that he seemed very interested in her answer, and wary, as if fearful of more scolding. 

Determined she would not, no she would not, complain, Belle smiled and said, “ It’s absolutely delicious. You have been so thoughtful and kind.” Taking up another bite of the empty pap, Belle assumed the lack of taste to be a fault of tastebuds burned by fever, and not a fault in the food itself. She was optimistic that, given time, her sense of taste would return and she would enjoy mealtimes once again.

Her husband did not look convinced at all by her little charade, and indeed looked upset. His head drooped, and a lock of raven hair fell in his eyes. Belle felt her stomach flip flop at the realization that she had disappointed him once again and so was not surprised when he stood up abruptly from her side.

“I will leave you then to break your long fast. Sarah will be up to attend to you.” He turned to go, leaving her chamber in haste it seemed, anxious to be away from a carping wife. 

He was almost out the door when Belle thought she heard him say, softly and with regret, “ What have I done?”

Belle could eat no more, her poor heart breaking that her beloved husband regretted his marriage to a weak, ungrateful, and sickly wife.


	2. An Eye Opener

Belle’s natural optimism finally overcame her disappointment in her husband’s reaction, and she climbed out of bed and rang for Sarah to help her dress. While waiting for her maid she sat at her vanity and brushed her thick autumn colored hair. It was quite tangled after laying in bed so long and she huffed in frustration, pulling impatiently at the matted curls. A ragged sound emerged as she dragged the comb through a particularly tough snarl, frustrated. 

“Oh, mam, don’t!” Sarah had arrived and scurried over to take the silver backed brush from Belle’s hand. “You’ll yank out your lovely hair. Let me do it.” Sarah clucked her disapproval at her mistress’s impatience, gently and methodically taking the ivory comb to Belle’s hair,carefully working through the snarls and laying the auburn curls out gently against her mistress’s white shoulders.

Content to let Sarah take over the job, Belle began to relax under the spell of Sarah’s gentle brushing and idle chatter. After a while her attention wandered, her eyes drooping.

“- And then I told him, if he’d had gentlemanly intentions he never would have said such a thing! Can you just believe the nerve of the dim bloke!” 

Belle shook her head. She hadn’t been listening. She flushed with embarrassment at her lapse of manners.

Putting down the hairbrush, Sarah placed her hands on her mistress’ shoulders. “Mam, I’ve known you all me life and can well tell when summat is troubling you. Now you just tell me what it is.” Belle looked at the stout woman standing there, her hands planted on her wide hips and her motherly face wrinkled in concern, and simply broke down. “Sarah, I don’t know what to do! Gaston is so distant;I feel I have let him down with my frailty. I know he wanted children, and now I fear he feels I am to weak to provide an heir and that he will come to despise me!” Belle began to weep, and Sarah immediately embraced her, patting her back and tut-tutting softly in her ear. Then she pulled back and put a plump hand to each side of Belle’s head, making sure she had her full attention.

“Mam, he was absolutely beside himself while you were Ill, and that’s nothing but the truth. He seemed distant I’m sure, as he couldn’t bear to look upon your pain! But I swear to ye, he so often asked me to hurry in here and make sure ye were still abed an alright, I began to think he was losin his mind. He loves and reveres ya still, and no mistake! And mam, if I may be s’bold, the ‘orrible illness has only made your beauty more pronounced. You’ll have no need of the pearl powder, as your skin is white as alabaster. And your waist is less than me upper arm! Why if it was common to survive the white plague, I might even wish it upon myself.”

Belle gasped. “Consumption?! I suffered from the graveyard cough? How is it possible that I yet live?” Her white face became positively translucent, rendering her even more angelic.

“Oh, mam forgive me! I hadn’t meant to mention it! Oh my, your dear husband will skin me alive, and well he ought! Me mouth runs on, tongue flapping at bothe ends me usband says, an ain’t it true!” Poor Sarah wrung her hands, looking crestfallen and guilty.

Belle was stricken to see her friend so. Her kind heart would not allow her to resent the gossip, maid or no. Besides she saw no reason that she should not know the truth of her condition; after all she had survived and surely all was presently well.

Sarah seemed to understand that her mistress bore her no animosity, and settled down to the task of her toilet. Holding pantollons for Belle to step into, placing her chemise on, tying up the cage crinoline, the stockings. Then came petticoat, corset, ruffled skirt and bodice. Sarah sat Belle down and finished her hair, parting it in the middle and arranging the chestnut curls into a chignon. At last she adde a house cap, merely a scrap of lace and ribbon above the chignon.

Eventually Belle made her way to the dining room, looking forward to some good food and tea. Hearing her husband’s voice, pitched low, she hesitated beyond the doorway.

“Do not let her out of your sight. She is to remain in the house at all times.”

“But sir, surely you won’t lock her up?” Belle heard her husband’s personal servant ask. “She won’t be pleased with that.”

“I don’t need your damn opinion! She almost died! I will do whatever is needed to secure her safety, do not test me on this.” Gaston’s voice was low and angry.

Belle hesitated; not wishing to anger her husband she lingered in the doorway. As the servant bowed and turned to exit the room, Belle passed him and entered as if she had just arrived.

Hearing her, Gaston turned, his eyes widening. “Belle! Are you certain you should be about?” Belle thought he looked shaken.

“Nonsense, husband, I am quite fit.” She swept over toward the table, which was set for breakfast. “ I am famished as well.” Belle smiled at him.

Gaston hurried to pull out a chair. Settling herself, Belle looked up at him,” And how do you fare this morning?”

Gaston seemed surprised. “Well, as ever. Please, enjoy your food. I, ah, I have business to attend to. I’m afraid I can’t stay to dine with you. Please, make sure to eat, you must build your strength.”

Belle was slightly taken aback by his rush to leave. “Well, of course, if you have urgent business. Might you join me for tea?” 

Her heart fell as he answered without looking at her, “ No my dear, I am afraid I will be detained on business all day. But please, ask cook for anything you desire, and please eat.” With that her husband hurried from the room, without once glancing at his wife.

Belle was nonplussed; he seemed to want to avoid eating with her, while at the same time expressing concern that she should take proper nutrition. She shook her head and piled her plate with buttery eggs and sliced ham. Belle could not remember when she had been so hungry! Taking a thick slice of crusty bread, she slathered it with aged creamy butter and strawberry jam, then poured a cup of steaming fragrant tea. Her mouth watering, Belle piled a fork with eggs and lifted her to her mouth with happy anticipation.

The happiness didn’t last long. Belle gagged as the food seemed to turn to clay in her mouth. It had no taste, none. Disappointed. She laid down her fork and shoved her plate away. Apparently her sense of taste was still not back to normal. She forced herself to drink a cup of tea and then vacated the dining room in disgust. 

Belle decided to go to the library and curl up on a settee with a good book to take her mind off her problems. She felt slightly guilty about feeling sorry for herself, after all she was lucky to be alive! She selected a book of poetry and settled in a warm patch of sunlight in the window seat. It was cozy and piled with velvet pillows and furnished with warm knit throws. Wrapping a particularly soft blanket about herself, she relaxed into the fluffy pillows and read until her eyes began to feel heavy and droop. The book slipped from her hands as the warm and cozy somnolence settled over her, and she could fight sleep no more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Belle felt something tickling her under her chin and swiped lazily at it. To her sleepy annoyance it continued, and she flicked at it a few times before opening her eyes. 

Before her stood a most peculiar creature, all huge alien eyes, wild hair, and predatory grin. Belle knew she should be afraid, but in the way of dreams, felt only a deep curiosity. She almost laughed as the odd little being swept a deep bow and continued to grin at her with stained and crooked teeth.

“And how are you this past noon, my love?’

0

“What are you?”

“Why I am the wind through the heather, the chuckling of the icy brook through the stones, the sly smile of the cheat at cards, the worm crawling through a corpse’s heart. The real question is, what are you?” The impish being postured and grinned, bouncing on its heels.

For some reason, Belle felt a laugh burbling up. It was just a dream after all, and that knowledge allowed her to reply,” I, sir? I suppose I am a chattel, full of regret, married to a man who cares for me not at all. I am therefore reasonably sure I am destined to remain in despair for all my years.”

“Despair not, my dearest, for all is not what you may believe. Follow your dear husband on his errand, see with your own eyes, your own heart, what exactly it is that ties your earthly selves together, if not your everlasting souls. Only then will you be capable of making the decision you must make.”

The graceful creature held out a hand to her. She grasped his warm hand in her own small, cold palm, unafraid in her dream, and was surrounded by a dark mist and a tugging deep in her abdomen as she was whisked away from her cozy bedchamber through a cold nothingness.

Ll

**Author's Note:**

> So this deal was inspired by one from a movie called Mr. Norrell and Jonathan Strange. Other than the deal it has nothing to do with the movie and none of the characters will appear. I have altered the movie deal a good bit,adding some things and leaving out others.
> 
> If you enjoy this story and would like it to continue, please leave kudos and notes. It’s the only sign I have that I should keep going.


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